Never Kiss A Whore
by The Marauder Named Prongs
Summary: Remus wants Sirius. Sirius wants Remus, but not in the same way. Needless to say, this doesn't end pleasantly. Sexual content. A bit twisted and mildly violent. RLSB Extended OneShot, due to the request of reviewers.
1. Chapter 1

**This is not one of my normal RL/SB fanfictions. It is rated Mature for a reason. It contains unwanted sexual advances. You have been warned. Enjoy, if you still wish to read. **

**Never Kiss A Whore**

It was not pleasant. It was not quick. It was not painless. And yet, it was not completely unwanted.

As I lay in my bedroom across the hall from his own in the flat we've shared since leaving school, I listen to the water running in his attached bathroom. A part of me itches to join him, but assertive is one thing I've never been with him. For some reason, I've had the feeling since the moment I entered my room some hours ago that something was going to happen tonight. Something big and unplanned.

The water shuts off, forcing the pipes in the flat to make a terrible creaking noise, as though they were about to fall apart and crash through the walls. My heart thunders in my ribcage. I hear him padding barefoot across his wooden floor, trying to not imagine what he is wearing (or not wearing) as he moves about his room. I shut my eyes as a metallic click meets my ears; he no longer resides in his room, and I hear the click of my own doorknob, my eyes still tightly shut.

He does not bother to knock before entering my room, as I would always do for him. I crack open my eyes, carefully examining him before he notices me looking. He dons only a pair of haphazardly thrown on jeans, his long mane of black hair dripping minute rivers down his bare chest. I try not to look pleased, hungry as I remove the book I had long-since given up reading from my lap. I push myself into a sitting position upon the bed in my room, staying silent, for lack of knowing what to say. The look on his face is anything but normal, and I feel my instincts earlier were quite accurate.

A growl sounds deep in his throat as my amber eyes scan his well-presented body. He is undeniably gorgeous, though that has always gone without saying. I know I shouldn't be looking, but at the same time, I know he came to my room thus dressed for a reason. He wants me to look at him; he wants me to want him. He needs confirmation, and that is exactly what I have given him.

Never breaking eye contact, he saunters across the room and crawls his way onto my bed, an air of seduction emitting from his every pore. His knees place themselves upon either side of my hips, as his hands pull my shirt up over my head in one quick, practiced motion. Never once does he give me the chance to accept or decline whatever it is he plans on doing. He knows he doesn't have to ask me. I'd always do anything he asked of me, and this is no different.

He runs his hands down my pale, scarred chest, coming to rest at the waist band of my jeans. He has them unbuttoned and unzipped faster than I'd have thought possible. He slides a skilled hand into my jeans, his other one busying itself with his own zipper and button.

I do not stop him, though I have since tried not to encourage him. But with his hand shoved in my boxers, it is a little more difficult to hide that he is indeed having quite an effect on me. He grasps me with his strong fingers, and gives one quick pull. My whole body gives an involuntary jerk at the unexpected motion. He merely smiles, his stormy eyes closed.

His jeans are now a crumpled pile upon the floor and his hands are now pulling my own jeans over my bony hips. I try not to look embarrassed or ashamed as my boxers follow the course he is leading my jeans upon. Never have I lain so completely naked and exposed with anyone in my life.

He grasps my hands and pulls me forward, off my back. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me, but I am mistaken. He merely pulls me over, allowing himself to fall over upon his back, myself sprawled atop him. His hair is spread upon the comforter like that of a fallen angel. The fallen angel that he was, I now look for sprouting horns.

I try not keep my gaze from his face as he rubs himself against me, letting out a low growl that twists and contorts his features into the most unattractive and lustful of facial expressions. It is almost frightening, but I know that at this point, there is no use in trying to fight him and whatever it is he plans to do. It would be fruitless to try to stop him. That would, inevitably, end up quite badly for me.

He is throbbing against me, tiny beads of sweat appearing along his hairline and upper lip. I try not to respond to him, not wanting this anymore, but my body betrays me, choosing that precise moment to let out the tiniest of moans. His hand is between us now, grasping me tightly. I breathing hitches at the feel of his hot, bare skin upon my own.

He rolls over on top of me, freeing his arms to hold himself above me. His eyes are glazed over as he looks into mine, and I know he is not seeing my face beneath him in his mind. I can only imagine who he is pretending I am.

"Turn over," he commands harshly; these are the first words he has spoken to me since entering my room unannounced and unwelcome. When I do not immediately do as he asks, he kneels above me, grasping my shoulders and almost painfully forces me onto my stomach.

I know what is now to come, and I can do nothing but squeeze my eyes closed as tightly as possible bracing myself with clutched hands. He does not prepare myself with his fingers, nor does he prepare himself with any kind of lotion or oil, as he positions himself over me.

Without so much as a whispered warning, he thrusts into me, and we both can do nothing but cry out; himself in pleasure, myself in pain. I clench my hands around the comforter, as he continues to drive himself into me, my teeth sinking into my lip as I try not to whimper. My eyes are streaming; my mind is reeling. No transformation has ever equaled the emotional and physical pain I am experiencing at this very moment.

He gives one final thrust, his nails digging unmercifully into my hips as he holds me firmly. His scream is loud and lustful as I feel him come inside of me, his whole body jerking and twitching.

A relief washes over me as I realize it is over. He is done. I am free. He pulls out of me and I give one last whimper. I cannot move. My body will not permit it. My heart cannot bear it. My mind cannot comprehend it. He cleans himself quickly before lying upon the opposite side of my bed. I can see his chest heaving as I roll onto my side, my back to him, my legs curls into my abdomen.

I feel weak, used, degraded.

He stole my pride, my virginity and my trust.

And yet, I cannot bring myself to call it rape.

If only had had allowed me just one kiss, I would not feel like such a common whore.

**Okay, there you have it. I hope you liked it. Please review. It makes me happy.**

**Prongsie :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**From the request of several reviewers, I have decided to add another chapter to this story. The 'Morning After", if you will. I have an inspiration to add even another chapter, maybe. I haven't decided if I want to take this "one shot" any farther than I already have. You are welcome to let me know if another chapter is in order, or if this is a sufficient ending. I hope you enjoy! **

My eyes cracked open, crusted with silent tears of the night before. The sun was shining, and I'd never been more loathsome towards that wretched star. How dare it shine so brightly, so happily when happiness was so clearly not present in this room, this life. I turned away from the stinging rays, burying my head into the same comforter I was so harshly defiled upon just hours earlier.

My mind moved to Sirius. I was too afraid to peek at the other side of my bed. I don't remember him removing himself from my room before sleep overtook me. Maybe he hadn't left. Some nerve he'd have to stay after what he did to me. My clothing were still scattered and forgotten on the floor. Slowly and gently, I removed myself from the old mattress, afraid to awaken one who may or may not reside in my bed. I bent to pick up my tangled pants and boxers, refusing to look behind me. There was nothing I wanted more than to pretend last night didn't happen, and Sirius wasn't here. A part of me knew, without looking that Sirius had slept in my room last night. Should I give him credit for staying? Or should I despise him more for it?

Should I despise him at all? If I should, do I? _Could_ I? I had a feeling it would be impossible. I had loved him too much for far too long to start hating him now. Though what he had done was so wrong, so horrible. Did that make me weak? A slave to my emotions? That couldn't be a good thing. This couldn't be a good thing. How would I face him when he roused? I didn't want to.

I quickly pulled my pants over my hips, noting the bruises his forceful hands had left. A reminder of what he had done. Not that he would have to look at them and remember. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes again. They rolled down my eyelashes splashing onto my bare, scarred chest as I sat upon the edge of the bed, my head bent in pain. My breaths came in gasps, though I willed myself to stay silent. The sobs broke as I relived last night. Everything I had felt, everything I had wished I could forget was rushing through my mind like a skipping video, over and over.

I heard a groan behind me. I was right in my suspicions. He was still here. My sobs had woken him. Merlin, I didn't want to face him right now. I didn't want to see the look of nonchalance when he saw me. There would be no regret in those eyes. I couldn't bear the thought. I stooped quickly to grab my shirt, wiping my eyes upon it before pulling it over my head. I walked quickly, determinedly towards the door, passing his barely conscious figure, still in the same position it had been when I had turned away from him just hours ago. I wrenched the door open, no longer caring whether I was quiet or not. The door slammed forcefully behind me, and satisfaction was all that came with the sound of it.

I didn't know where to go. I didn't want to leave my home, scared away by that wretched man who meant so much to me. I settled, instead, for the kitchen, where I attempted to ignore the feelings, the memories that were plaguing my every thought by making breakfast. I had eggs sizzling in a frying pan and toast browning in the toaster before I heard any sounds to imply movement anywhere else in the house.

"Remus." A small whisper. I didn't acknowledge it. I didn't care that there was obvious remorse in that word. I didn't care for anything he could possibly say to me. I faced the stove, poking the eggs with a spatula. Anything to keep me busy.

"Remus, please." The voice was louder, closer. I hadn't even heard him move across the kitchen, but I knew he was right behind me now, trying to reconcile something I had no intention of allowing him to apologize for.

Still staring at the eggs cooking in the pan, I said quietly, monotonously, "Go away, Sirius." I paused, waiting for a response. When none came, I turned slightly, just to see if he had listened to me or not. I wasn't sure which I would have preferred. He was still there, clad in the same manner he had been last night. That thought stung my eyes and closed my throat. I couldn't have said more if I had wanted to at that moment.

I turned the burner off and scraped the eggs onto the plate where two pieces of overcooked toast were laying. I suddenly had no appetite. I may as well have thrown the food out right then, but I needed something to do to occupy my thoughts. So, I brought the meal to the table, past Sirius, who was standing as though petrified exactly where I had seen him minutes ago.

As I took my seat, he turned slowly. As I had thought, there was no remorse in his eyes. I could see pain, but I didn't care. It couldn't be anything like what I had felt, what I was still feeling.

"Let me make it up to you, Rem," he said, taking the seat across from me, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration, as he examined the face I was trying so hard to keep blank. "I fucked up."

With a hollow laugh, I replied, none too nicely, "You fucked up? You_ fucked up_? Is that what you're calling it?"

My words cut him like blades, and there was a kind of satisfaction in it I had never felt before. He deserved this. I knew he did. Still, I didn't like causing him pain. It was like a war in my head, whether to hurt him or to forgive him for hurting me. I couldn't decide which was right. Both felt right, but which one was I supposed to do?

"Okay," he replied, trying to erase the hurt from his features. "That's the understatement of the century, but what do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? I can't take it back." He was getting angry.

"Would you?" I asked, my voice riddled with venom. "Would you take it back if you could?" My food lay forgotten before me, my hands clenched into fists upon the table. I had never before felt anger like this. For the first time in my life, I wished it were the full moon, for I would certainly tear him to shreds if it were. And the truth of that scared me. But my anger was too strong to allow any other emotions to have meaning in my thoughts.

He was silent. Was he going to answer? Was he ashamed of the answer he would give? I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I cared or even wanted to know.

"I don't know," he whispered, confusion written all over his face. "I'm not sorry for what I did, though I do wish I had gone about it differently. I… I wasn't right last night. Something was off."

I snorted at his pitiful excuse. "Is that how you're going to rationalize what you've done? Is that how you're going to live with yourself?" I decided anger and hatred were an emotion I _was_ capable of having towards Sirius. With what he had just said, I felt both of these emotions flooding into my body, my mind. Never before had I hated anyone more. I didn't think I could ever possibly love him again, and I was sure I didn't want to. I would be years before I could forgive him for this, if I ever forgave him. He certainly wasn't doing much to earn my forgiveness.

"Remus…." He was at a loss for words. Good. "What do you want me to do?"

The thought took only a millisecond to procure itself. "I want you to leave," I said, determined and honest. "I want you to move out and leave me alone." The statement was bold, but I knew it was what I truly wanted. It was the only way I could cope with this. I needed him away from me. I would find a different roommate. Maybe Peter would like to move out of his mother's house now. I'm sure he wouldn't object.

Sirius nodded slowly, not fighting my words, but choosing to obey them as he had never done before. "When?" he asked, a resignation in his voice.

"Tonight."

"If that's what you really want."

"It is."

"All right."

He removed himself from the table. I chewed in silent thought when he left the room. I knew what I had done was harsh and difficult, but something I couldn't explain told me it was the right thing to do. I knew it was. I would be happier if I didn't have to look at him after tonight. It would make everything easier to cope with. I didn't need him. I loved him, yes, but I no longer needed him in my life. He had broken everything last night.

He had stolen everything I valued from me, and he couldn't possibly apologize enough in a lifetime to make it better. I wouldn't allow it.

I refuse to become Sirius Black's whore.

**Okay, there is the next (final?) chapter in the story. Please let me know if I should continue or end it here. I would greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed it, and to all of you who requested a sequel, I hope it was somewhere near what you were expecting!**

**Prongise :)**


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